


Shrink

by Hibernia1



Series: Old age verse [4]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Geriatric Psychiatrist, M/M, Old Age, Old Age Verse, Sad, Vascular Dementia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/pseuds/Hibernia1
Summary: House and Wilson are still together in their seventies. House isn't as sharp as he used to be, and that's putting it mildly. Part IV of the Old Age Verse.





	

"Doctor House? You can come in now.”

House didn’t look up. Wilson poked him. 

“Doctor Bets is calling you. It’s your turn,” he hissed.

“Not deaf,” House said. He got up in extreme slow motion and limped to his geriatric psychiatrist’s office door even slower. Wilson smiled at Bets apologetically. 

“Doctor House, do you feel comfortable with your partner being in here for our talk?” Bets asked after House had taken a seat. Wilson was still hovering near the door.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course you have a choice.”

House shrugged. “Don’t care one way or the other.”

Bets sat down behind his desk, facing House. “Do you want to stay, Doctor Wilson?” he asked.

“Yes. Please.”

“No problem. Have a seat.” 

House stared at the ceiling. Bets checked his file.

“So, Doctor House,” he then started, “how have things been going since your last visit six months ago?”

“Fine.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“That’s not really the answer I was hoping for,” Bets said calmly, “but well, let’s see, you’ve recently joined a Cognitive Training Program. How’s that working out?” 

House snorted.

“House,” Wilson pleaded, “please! This morning before we left you promised me you’d co-operate this time!”

“Don’t remember. Dementia, see?” House said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I’ve read the reports of the psychiatrist overseeing the program,” Bets continued imperturbably, “and she seems to be under the impression that you’re not getting the full benefits the sessions could provide because you’re not committed. Why do you think that is?”

“She’s in dire need of psychiatric help herself,” House told him.

“Right. So, she’s delusional, and in reality you’re very committed to the program?”

“I don’t know what her problem is. I’m not a shrink, for fuck’s sake. I’m a _real_ doctor with a _real_ specialty.”

“House!” Wilson exclaimed, shocked.

“So, what _is_ your specialty?” Bets asked.

“Should be in my file,” House answered.

“Humor me.”

House narrowed his eyes in anger.

“Always with the trick questions! I can’t think of it right now, okay? Happy?” he spat.

Bets shook his head. “I’m not trying to trick you at all. What I’m trying to do is to assess your mental condition. Which would be easier, by the way, if you’d be more forthcoming with information.”

“What do you want to hear?” House demanded, “how much I hate that stupid program and the games they want you to play and the way they want you to think of words that rhyme with other words?”

“That’s a good start,” Bets said, “do go on.”

“Nothing more to tell.”

“I’m sure there is.”

“No.”

“Okay, so, since you don’t want to talk about the program anymore, how about daily life?”

“What about it?”

“Well for instance, do you encounter any problems in your day-to-day activities?”

“No.”

“Can I say something about that?” Wilson asked. 

“Go ahead,” Bets said, at the same time as House barked “No, you can’t.”

Wilson hesitated. House threw him a very dirty look, but Bets nodded encouragingly.

“Please share your thoughts, Doctor Wilson.”

“Well,” Wilson said unhappily, “I just thought you should know there actually are some issues with every day stuff. House, you’ve had trouble working the stereo and the coffee maker lately and you keep misplacing things. I've also noticed you never read anymore, and…”

“Yes, thank you very much, I’m sure he’s got the picture,” House snarled. Wilson blushed, but didn’t look away.

“You of all people should understand that it’s important that the doctor gets the whole story,” he said, “otherwise there’s not much point in going to these appointments, is there?”

“This is what I’ve been telling you all morning!” House said, “let’s go.”

“Let’s not.”

“I can get home by myself, you know.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” Wilson said, “but now that we’re here anyway, let’s listen to what Doctor Bets has to suggest, okay?”

House looked at Bets defiantly. “Do you have anything to suggest?” he asked.

“I might if I have a chance to get a good picture of what’s going on. Since you won’t talk to me, I think another neuropsychological evaluation is in order,” Bets answered, “you’re about due for one anyway.” 

“I just had one of those!” House objected.

Bets tapped on his file with a pencil. “That was almost eight months ago. Things can change dramatically in eight months.”

“Things can change dramatically in eight seconds, what’s your point?”

“My point is that I need to have a clear understanding about your mental wellbeing at this particular point in time. An eight-month-old evaluation won’t do.”

“I hated that evaluation,” House complained, “they wanted me to draw the mirror image of a clock.”

“Yes, and you refused to do it,” Wilson sighed. He remembered the day of the neuropsychological evaluation vividly. House had been furious when he'd come out of the neuropsychologist’s office and he had taken out his anger on Wilson that evening by calling him every name in the book and eventually even hitting him.

“Damn sure I did,” House muttered, “and I’ll refuse again.”

“You do realize that all we are trying to do is to make sure you continue to be as healthy as you can be, right?” Bets asked.

“I very much doubt that,” House said, “and I’m leaving.”

Before Wilson could even get up, House had stormed out as fast as he possibly could.

“I better go after him,” Wilson said, “I’m really sorry, doctor Bets. I wish I could make him see that it would make things a hell of a lot easier if he’d comply. He seems to think everybody’s out to get him.”

“Well, yes. Paranoia is quite common in patients with vascular dementia, especially when they used to be geniuses like doctor House,” Bets said, “don’t take it personally, that’s all I can tell you. I’ll schedule that evaluation and have my assistant call you with a date. From what I could gather today, I expect the results will show he’s deteriorated quite a bit during those eight months, but I could be wrong.”

Wilson smiled sadly. “You’re not.”

“Good luck, doctor Wilson. Don’t hesitate to call if something’s up. And do check out those support groups for family members of people suffering from dementia I told you about.”

“Thanks, I might do that at some point,” Wilson said vaguely before shaking Bets’s hand and hurrying out himself.

Bets got up to look out of the window and minutes later he saw House and Wilson coming out of the building. They didn’t get in their car right away. House was leaning against the passenger side door and from the look of things, Wilson was reasoning with him. 

After a few minutes and a lot of gesturing from Wilson, House nodded. Wilson hugged him quickly and then helped him get into the car. When Wilson handed House his seat belt, Bets saw that House playfully kissed his hand. 

Before getting in the car himself, Wilson looked at Bets’s window and waved, smiling broadly. Bets waved back, relieved to know things were okay between House, his most difficult patient ever, and House’s partner. Their life was complicated enough without arguments.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been posting House fan fic on LJ before (ages ago), and now that I've got an AO3 account anyway, I decided to put them here, too. Thanks to the real Doctor Bets, who will probably never read this. I borrowed his name with fondness.


End file.
